


tamper

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “I’ll have you know,” Harry replied, closing out the chart he was working in with a flourish of his stylus, “that terrible coffee is a time-honored tradition in the medical world and you’d do well to respect it.”





	tamper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayspaceelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayspaceelf/gifts).



“I hope the coffee in here is better than it used to be.”

Harry raised his head, immediately locating the source of the disruption for who and what it was: the Hyperion’s wayward Pathfinder returned. A few of the other physicians and staff lifted their eyes from what they were doing, too, but, after confirming that the new arrival didn’t herald the need for medical intervention, they went back to work. It was only Harry’s gaze that lingered, cataloguing the scratched up armor Scott Ryder wore while Harry’s mind worked to match it with the sort of injuries Scott might have faced out there in the wilds of Andromeda.

If he was unscrupulous, he’d have pulled Scott’s medical record to verify. But since he wasn’t, and because there was already one Ryder in his care, he left well enough alone.

Besides, Scott looked hale and healthy and all sorts of good besides. The man was fine. He didn’t need Harry clucking over him. Had a good head on his shoulders, Scott did, and a streak of responsibility most people never developed. Despite the risks he took, he was no daredevil.

“I’ll have you know,” Harry replied, closing out the chart he was working in with a flourish of his stylus, “that terrible coffee is a time-honored tradition in the medical world and you’d do well to respect it.”

Scott smiled at Harry, momentarily distracted from his true goal, even if only for a few moments. Harry couldn’t quite say he cherished that he could accomplish even that much, but his stomach twisted almost pleasantly with the knowledge that he rated Scott’s regard at all. Then Scott’s gaze drifted to Sara’s prone, still form and all such selfish thoughts dissipated. He only ever came for Sara and that was good of him. Harry was just happy to take what he could get, foolish though that might have been.

They both approached her, Scott more than a little apprehensive from the focused way he stared at her, Harry with the same grim determination to see her out of this that he always felt when it came to treating her.

“How’s she doing?” Scott asked, quiet, from the opposite side of the bed. His knuckles were white from the grip he held on the edge of it. This, Harry thought, was a Pathfinder that few people got to see. He would call it a privilege if it wasn’t such a damned shame to see it happen under these circumstances.

“There’s improvement every day.” Harry nodded, more in his element now that a medical question had been posed to him. He could rattle off every observation he’d made if Scott asked it of him, but they all boiled down to this: “She’ll pull through in good time.”

“You think so?”

“Scott, come on. Doctors don’t make promises lightly.” He nodded toward Scott. “Let me grab you a chair. Maybe a cup of coffee, too, if I’m feeling generous.”

Scott’s eyes glinted with amusement and it felt like a hard-won victory that Harry managed even that much. There were people in the galaxy who knew how to inspire joy in others, but Harry had never been one of them. Too grounded, maybe, or merely too grumpy. That he could offer anything of such value to Scott was worth a hell of a lot.

“Thanks, Harry,” Scott called after him.

If Harry grabbed two chairs, that threatened cup of coffee for Scott, and then sat with him while he finished up his paperwork for the day, that was his own business. And Scott’s, if he asked, though he didn’t, choosing instead to share bits and pieces of his adventures since leaving the Nexus as Harry worked.

When Harry looked up, he saw Scott take a sip of the coffee and grimace.

“Not very good,” Scott said. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

Despite the aspersions cast on his coffee-making efforts, Harry couldn’t say he minded in the slightest.

*

The next time Scott came in, a fresh pot of coffee had just been brewed and Harry was preparing to down at least half of it himself and hope he’d find some focus at the bottom of his mug at the end of the overindulgence. But now that Scott was here, the thought of _focusing_ evaporated entirely. Then he saw the cut on Scott’s temple, the bruising around his eye and throat, the ginger-slow way he lifted his hand in greeting. He couldn’t hide his discomfort no matter how hard he tried and Harry, trained as he was to suss out pain and bullshit, caught on immediately.

“What the hell, Ryder?” he asked, only mostly rhetorical, abandoning the coffee and his need for it in the face of actual work to do. Pointing at one of the unoccupied beds—the one closest to Sara, in fact—he hooked his boot around the nearest stool and shoved it across the floor with his toes. Its wheels shushed quietly as it rolled to a stop at the foot of said bed. Scott hopped up and shrugged. He _oofed_ quietly, and Harry caught that, too.

“How’s Sara?”

“Fine,” he answered, stuffing his handheld scanner into the pocket of his tunic. “She’s dreaming as near as I can tell. Might even be able to hear you if you want to talk to her. What happened to you?”

“Kadara,” Scott replied, dry, an eye roll at the ready. “Kadara is definitely what happened to me.”

“Heard that’s a wild place.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head and vehemently denied to himself that he was turning into his mother. “Now I know Lexi wouldn’t let you off the ship without a checkup, but just how many lies did you tell her to ensure she didn’t treat you, too?”

“She did treat me.” Scott’s eyes grew cold, hard, and a distant frown settled on his mouth. It wasn’t a side of Scott that Harry was used to seeing, but Harry was weirdly grateful for the chance to see it all the same. “But she also had more important things to do.”

“Ah.” Of course. “Who was hurt?”

Scott looked away, kicking his heel back against the underside of the bed. “Vetra.”

“Is she okay?”

Scott sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Yeah. She’s fine.”

Harry’s eyebrow climbed his forehead. “And I bet you were a handful about it the whole time.”

Huffing, Scott smiled in amusement, just a little, just enough to let Harry know that he was okay or would be. Harry had seen people grow into leadership roles. Knowing you were responsible when people got hurt, that always took the longest to get used to. And some people never did. “Yeah. I probably was.”

Though Harry went through the formalities of waving the scanner across Scott’s torso, he knew he wouldn’t find anything egregiously wrong. Lexi knew her job, probably better than Harry did given how long she’d been a doctor. Still, he felt better for having checked. “Could slap a bit of medigel on the bruises if you’d like.”

“Nah. Save it for a rainy day.” Scott rolled his shoulder and cracked his neck. Hopping down from the bed, he put himself nearly chest to chest with Harry and didn’t seem inclined to more further or push past him. He did peer up, curious, his eyes searching Harry’s face. For what, Harry couldn’t have guessed, but it made him want things he probably shouldn’t have.

“I’ll save it for the next person who needs it,” Harry said, thinking about anything except the lack of distance between them, the scent of his soap, the myriad flecks of color in his eyes. Allowing himself instead the opportunity to smirk and pretend disaffection, he returned the scanner to his tunic. He was a professional, after all, and Scott was the hero of the Andromeda galaxy. “Hopefully that person isn’t you.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me get you a cup of coffee, huh?”

Good-natured, Scott said, “I hope it’s better than last time.”

“Oh,” Harry answered with a laugh, “it’s probably worse.” He fetched a pair of mugs, careful to avoid sloshing the steaming liquid inside. “So, do I want to know how it’s going on Kadara?”

Despite its terribleness, they managed to work their way through the pot all by themselves as Scott regaled both Harry and Sara with tales of local flora that harbored certain ‘medicinal’ properties and Outcasts and the Collective and though Sara couldn’t respond, Harry tried to do enough for the both of them.

He wasn’t sure it was enough, but by the time Scott left, he looked practically cheerful instead of drained and so Harry counted it as a win.

*

“No coffee today,” Harry said, before Scott could so much as open his mouth. When Harry’d gotten used to the idea of Scott walking into medical, he couldn’t say, but it was a useful skill. Made him less likely to look foolish. “Unless you can get a hold of a new carafe on short notice. I’m sure you’re very disappointed.”

Scott’s nose wrinkled slightly. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to know.” Actually, it wasn’t that bad, but sometimes Harry couldn’t help giving people a hard time. And as Scott’s features shifted through a variety of emotions—curiosity, worry, grim, heavily put-upon acceptance—Harry thought it was worth it.

“I suppose,” he answered, affecting a grieved aspect, “this was just the galaxy’s way of saving you from terrible coffee.”

“You could be right.” And yet, Harry _was_ a little bit disappointed. He’d come to enjoy Scott’s visits and even the coffee. In fact, he probably enjoyed both more than he had any right to. After all, Scott was here to visit Sara, not him. The lack of coffee made no real difference in the grand scheme of things. But it felt like it all the same.

“Well, then.” Scott smiled gamely. “Maybe you’ll come out with me for some coffee when you get off shift. Can’t give up on the tradition too easily, can we?”

Harry, who’d generally considered his hearing pretty stellar as far as such things went, decided he needed to give himself a hearing test immediately because he was ninety-nine percent sure his ears weren’t working right. “I…”

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” Scott said, his voice full of ready assurance.

So Harry did what he did best, have a crisis and then throw caution to the wind. Stepping closer to Scott, he scanned the room and lowered his voice. Everyone else was back in the labs right now. No one around to see. “That sounds a little like you’re asking me out.” His eyes fell to Scott’s lips. Couldn’t help it. This wasn’t the place for it, but that didn’t stop Harry from wondering what it would feel like to kiss him.

Scott’s chin tilted up. “That’s because I am.”

Slow, a little dubious, he asked, “For coffee?”

The smile Scott gave him was well worth it. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Harry imagined a lot of ideas within the span of a few seconds. “I like coffee.” He’d have liked to reach for Scott, at least take his hand as he said it, but propriety was a thing to be valued still and even in all his surprise he still had that. He liked it just as well that Scott wanted to have coffee with him.

“When you get off shift,” Scott reminded him.

“Absolutely.” Which was… a few hours from now. A few very _long_ hours from now.

“You mind if I sit with Sara in the meantime?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Scott said, going to perch on the edge of Sara’s bed like he usually did. Harry watched as his hand wrapped around her knee and leaned toward her, watched as he quietly told Sara about his day.

Harry did his damnedest to ignore Scott as he went about his business, but it might’ve been the hardest thing he’d had to do in a long time.

A few hours.

He could manage that.

Definitely.

*

Though Harry’d been assigned an apartment on the Nexus, he didn’t often make it off the Hyperion to spend time there. As he and Scott stepped off the tram that led to the docks—the vast majority of shops were there, Scott explained, more traffic, more people—his eyes widened. This was not the Nexus he’d explored half-heartedly when they first arrived. Well, _explored_ was too strong a word for it. He maybe poked his head around while construction crews got to work making the place livable. And then he’d retreated back to the ship he knew so much better than it. But now…

“Wow. They’ve really managed to do something with the place,” Harry said. He looked askance at Scott, who smiled in a vague, proud way at their surroundings. “No thanks to you, of course.”

“Just part of the job. Besides, I had help,” Scott answered. He pointed toward a section that had, the last time Harry was here, had been barricaded. “That way.”

‘That way’ ended up being a small, out of the way spot that wouldn’t have stood out as anything except a closed door if Scott hadn’t proceeded toward it. It slid open when he approached, at which point Harry caught a whiff of roasted beans and heard the sound of whirring machines grinding away at said beans.

There wasn’t even a sign outside to indicate what this place was.

“Pick a place,” Scott said, waving his hand toward the assorted tables and booths. “My treat.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat,” he said and in a tone that brooked no argument. “What are you having?”

“Espresso?” Honestly, Harry wasn’t all that fussy about what he drank so long as it housed caffeine of one form or another.

Scott nodded and made his way toward the counter. Sometimes, Scott came to medical in his armor, sometimes not. And it was only at this moment that he realized that he’d never seen that particular shirt before. He definitely, definitely would have noticed the way it stretched across Scott’s shoulders if he had.

 _What in the hell are you doing here, Harry_ , he thought. _With the Pathfinder, no less?_

He didn’t get long to ponder that question, because in a very short amount of time, Scott was returning, two porcelain mugs in hand. One was a bit smaller than the other, and that was the one he placed before Harry. The espresso smelled incredible, delicate ribbons of steam drifting toward the ceiling. Save for the pale brown bubbles scattered across the surface, it was dark enough that it looked almost black and it absolutely beat out the mud they scrounged up in medical on a daily basis.

“Thanks, Scott,” he said, because his mother raised the semblance of a gentleman. The smile he received in return was worth far more than the effort he expended in earning it, enough so that a tingling of discomfort ran down his spine. Technically speaking, he hadn’t dated in six-hundred years—and some days, it felt like that long outside of the technicality, too. He wouldn’t have called himself awkward, but he wasn’t sure what else he’d call himself instead other than happy and surprised to be here.

Tapping the side of the delicate little cup, he cleared his throat. Before he could speak, though, Scott beat him to it.

“I’m a little surprised you said yes to having coffee with me,” he said, his own fingers tightening around the wide rim of his mug.

“You must not know me at all,” Harry answered. “I never say no to coffee.” It was a joke, and a fairly obvious, grandiose one at that, but Scott laughed at it anyway, and just that reaction was enough to make Harry think there was nothing more gratifying to do in the world than prove humorous for Scott.

“Why do you think I picked it?” he asked, equally teasing. “Just trying to hedge my bets.”

“Well,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “You wouldn’t have had to hedge very much. Coffee or no.”

Scott ducked his head and huffed in amusement. When he lifted his eyes, there was a sparkle in them that Harry hadn’t seen before and wanted more of. “That’s good to know.”

Grinning back, Harry took a sip of the espresso and asked the same questions he usually did. _How’s the rest of Andromeda treating you? Finding any cool stuff? Everyone staying safe?_

Harry hadn’t been on a date in a long time, but he couldn’t remember a more pleasant one either. He hoped Scott felt the same. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Scott said, quiet, a bit more serious suddenly. “Soon, preferably.”

That was about as much answer as Harry needed on that score.

*

“Hey,” Scott said, the door to Harry’s apartment sliding shut behind him in a repeat of a scene that had become quite common over the last few months. The Tempest would dock; Scott would complete whatever Pathfinder business needed completing; he’d stop by the medical to see Sara; he’d come here.

To be honest, Harry hadn’t seen this much of his own home in a long time, but he didn’t mind it when Scott was here, too. At the end of the day, it was nice knowing he had this to look forward to. “Hey,” Harry answered, putting aside his charts and rising from the corner of the couch now designated his. Scott reached him before he took more than a few steps and he couldn’t help but reach forward and press his fingers to Scott’s jaw, pull him in for a kiss, long and lingering.

Scott sighed against his mouth, his hands reaching for Harry’s waist as they always did. His thumbs pressed against his hip bones, the pressure pleasant and more than welcome. He pushed—Scott _always_ pushed—Harry back against the couch. His knees touched the cushions as he was guided down so Scott could sprawl across his lap. This, too, wasn’t so unusual, and yet Harry still wasn’t used to the solid weight of Scott pressed against him, still reveled into it, might always savor it with this degree of surprise.

He hoped he would anyway.

By the time Scott leaned back, lips just a little bit more flushed than when he’d walked through the door, Harry was practically breathless. Turning his head, he coughed into his hand. “There’s, uh, coffee. If you’d like some.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, his focus entirely on Harry’s lips, “I think I’d like some.”

Coffee, just maybe, was the last thing from either of their thoughts. That wasn’t quite as unusual as it used to be.


End file.
